July 2009

July 27, 2009

The only reason that I've put off writing it for so long is because I remain unsure as to what extent of my personal life I want to reveal online. The internet's ability to allow us to bare ourselves to so many people is uncharted territory and I'll be the first to admit that it kind of scares the crap out of me.

Let's face it. Whether consciously or not, the persona that we project online is merely how we choose to present ourselves to the world. Whether you write a blog or maintain a Facebook page, everyone is undeniably conscious and guilty of a certain level of character manipulation. We all want to structure the perception of ourselves in a way so that it reflects favorably upon us.

I once read an interview with David Foster Wallace where he said that the interesting part about this is that none of it is new. This manipulation of persona "was the project
of the Sophists in Athens, and this is what Socrates and Plato thought
was so completely evil. The Sophists had this idea: Forget this idea of
what's true or not—what you want to do is rhetoric; you want to be able
to persuade the audience and have the audience think you're smart and
cool. And Socrates and Plato, basically their whole idea is, "That's fucking bullshit.
There is such a thing as truth, and it's not all just how to say what
you say so that you get a good job or get laid, or whatever it is
people think they want.""

Amen, brother.

I'm not going to delve into how closely my online "persona" is aligned with my "real-life" personality. That's an abject lesson in futility that serves no real purpose. However, as I read through my archives to get a better understanding of that persona, I realize that there's one important aspect of my personality that rarely surfaces in my writing; I am a deeply private person.

Additionally, the fact that this blog has a small modicum of popularity isn't really helping matters much. Schadenfreude is trading at
near-record levels these days. We don't root for people's success as
much as we quietly revel in their failure.

And look, I think it's pretty obvious to everyone that I don't write here because I want to be popular and never in a million years would I ever want to be famous.

Why?

Primarily
because it would fucking kill me to visit the dentist, see a photo of
myself on the cover of some magazine, and realize that some douchebag has
drawn a dick and balls on my chin.

All joking aside, what I'm trying to say is that I don't write here hoping for a slice of admiration pie. In fact, I often struggle whether to even maintain this site because, due to factors beyond my control, my goal of retaining anonymity vanished long ago.

In the beginning, my primary motives for starting this site were simply twofold. One, I wanted a place to chronicle my journey into fatherhood. Two, I just wanted a creative outlet to practice my writing.

The one thing I never predicted was how much this site would impact my life personally. The social compact of the community is far greater than I imagined. I've become invested in your lives and you've become invested in mine. More than anything, I'll never regret starting this site because of the close friendships it's given to me.

That's why I feel compelled to tell all of you that BossLady and I are divorcing. This is nowhere near a recent development. We spent many hard and painful months in marriage counseling before making the final decision. Needless to say, it wasn't easy.

I've said many times on this site that a good relationship is like a duck. Everything
may look smooth on the surface but underneath you've got to paddle like
hell. This should come as no surprise to anyone who has ever been in a serious long-term relationship. As everyone knows, good relationships take work.

We simply couldn't make ours work.

I won't go into the details of why our marriage didn't work. Out of my deep and sincere respect for the BossLady, that part of it remains private but like life itself, every relationship is complicated. Besides, to put the reasons for our failed relationship into words would require a writing talent that I simply do not possess.

But let's face it. Conversations about past relationships are rarely about what actually happened. They're mostly about what we think has happened.

Thankfully, the divorce has been extremely amicable and we remain close friends. Most importantly, the Peanut has adjusted to her new situation amazingly well, proving once again how resilient kids can be. It helps tremendously that BossLady and I share extremely similar views on parenting. We're also both extremely alike in the extent of the
personal sacrifices we're willing to make for our daughter. The most important thing is that the Peanut knows that she will continue to remain the most important individual in each of our
lives.

As for me? I'm fine. The decision to get divorced seems like it happened ages ago and I haven't looked back since. I'm a firm believer that every exit is an entrance somewhere else. Besides, good friends, good booze and good therapists should never be undervalued. Divorce has not destroyed the romantic in me nor has it ruined my optimistic belief in love. While I regret that our marriage failed, I wish BossLady only the best and I sincerely hope that she finds true happiness with someone else. In all honesty, I know that she hopes the same for me too. We have the utmost respect for one another and I hope that you will as well.

Some people think that it's holding on that makes one strong. In reality, it's letting go.

July 16, 2009

Orson Scott Card once said that, "Music isn't just a pleasure, a transient satisfaction. It's a need, a
deep hunger; and when the music is right, it's joy. Love. A foretaste
of heaven. A comfort in grief."

In many ways, those songs that truly resonate within our souls, both in the past and present,
are not only the fullest and deepest expressions of ourselves but also subtle clues to figuring out how we feel about life.

That's why I've always felt that songwriting is an art form unlike any other.

Despite having paid his dues for years, Mark is practically unknown outside of the indie rock scene. Adored by music critics and fellow musicians, he's never achieved even a modicum of the commercial attention he deserves. I first discovered him eight years ago after reading Nick Hornby's book "Songbook," a collection of thirty-one personal essays about life each based on a single song. One of the essays was about Mark's song "Hey Self-Defeater" (from the album Fathering.)

I've always felt that Mark wrote the kind of music you listen to when you're sitting around a campfire with close friends or smoking cigarettes on a NYC fire escape or driving alone in the middle of the night to see a girl whom you love. His lyrics are hauntingly beautiful and he has the rare ability to tell stories through his music. There are flashes of his music that simultaneously remind me of Radiohead, Bruce Springsteen, Paul Westerberg, Pearl Jam, the Smiths and R.E.M. How many artists can we say that about?

Anyway, a tribute album entitled "Ciao My Shining Star: The Songs of Mark Mulcahy" is due to be released in September. It will feature contributions from such artists as Thom Yorke, Michael Stipe, Juliana Hatfield, Liz Phair, the National, Ben Kweller and many others. It's one of the more impressive and inspiring compilations put together solely for a single purpose.

Sadly, that purpose is devastatingly heartbreaking.

Almost exactly one year ago, Mark's wife Melissa tragically and unexpectedly passed away from cancer, leaving him alone to raise his three-year old twin daughters. Forced to choose between his music and his family, he chose his family and decided to put an end to his music career. Despite his need and love of being an artist, there was simply no way he could afford to be a musician anymore. He was in dire financial straits and needed to be at home for his daughters. Fatherhood was too important for him to make any compromises.

When learning about Mark's decision to give up music, the many artists he inspired circled the wagons and decided to release "Ciao My Shining Star" on their own. They've spent the past year writing and producing their own personal and heartfelt versions of Mark's songs, the sole purpose being to raise money for a great friend, man, musician, husband and father.

The outpouring of love and support was incredible. The music it produced is even more so.

The first few songs were released this week. Here are two of my favorites. Both are truly beautiful in their own way and hit you like great songs should---in the gut.

July 14, 2009

I'll never forget when I was 24 years old and I returned home to New York after a few years in Washington, DC that left me an emotional mess. Not only was I between jobs and low on self-esteem but also, to make matters worse, I was living in an apartment that my parents owned and I was severely conflicted about how that would impact me. I had no money. My coffee table was a cardboard box and I lived off ramen for months at a time. Frequently, I would stay up late at night alternating between staring at empty walls and staring at the ceiling.

One night, I was fully immersed in the kind of self-indulgent self-pitying postmodern self-awareness that normally makes me cringe. I hated myself for it and, in the midst of this, the only thing I could think of was, "Shit, I need a fucking road trip!"

So in the middle of the night, I jumped in my car by myself and drove to Graceland.

This makes no sense for two reasons. One, although I'd been to Graceland before, it never held any emotional appeal to me. My previous trips there were solely for the kitsch factor. As a young and cynical New Yorker, it always made me feel smugly superior to witness Elvis fanatics who had saved their entire lives to make that once-in-a-lifetime pilgrimage to a place that I was unable to fathom could have any emotional impact in a meaningful way for anybody.

Secondly, truth be told, I don't even fucking like Elvis. As Chuck D once said, "Elvis never meant shit to me." I always thought that he was a white poser capitalizing on a legacy of black music that was marketed as an apologistic fallacy for black people. It would have made much more sense for me to drive to Asbury Park, the birthplace of Bruce Springsteen, a man whose music actually always resonated with me (and still does) in a much more meaningful way. Shit, sometimes if I'm in the right mood, I'll still tear up when I hear "Thunder Road."

Anyway, regardless of relevancy, I just got in my car and drove. Between passing empty Waffle Houses and listening to talk radio, I immersed myself in solitude. Though I wasn't quite sure why I had initially jumped in my car to drive, I suddenly knew I had made the right decision.

Solitude is a funny thing.

Armed only with bags of beef jerky and a carton of cigarettes, I found myself on the road pondering what I really wanted out of my life and what I needed to change in order to effect those things. I realized that I was currently on a path that could possibly cause more harm than it did good and I needed to get myself in a completely different frame of mind.

I can't even begin to explain how cathartic of an experience I underwent. The longer I drove, the more I began to find clarity. A million things went through my mind.

Towards the end of the drive, I started thinking about how much I enjoyed the comfort of solitude. Growing up as a child, I had always been somewhat of a loner. While I enjoyed playing sports with my friends, I much more enjoyed isolating myself in my bedroom with a stack of books. There's a myriad of reasons for all of that but I won't get into it now. Like Paul Auster (in his semi-brilliant memoirs,) I've often explored the estrangement among the relationships of those isolated individuals closest to me and the common experience that linked all of them together.

Sometimes solitude is emotional. Sometimes it's physical. Never underestimate the power of both.

Anyway, the sun was partway up the sky as I drove into Memphis but, in many ways, the sky still looked as tortured as Elvis' soul. Some people are filled with optimism when they see the sun rise. Personally, I've always enjoyed the quiet solace of the night. At this moment, I remember still being filled with doubt and dread. All I really wanted to do was keep driving but I had no idea where to go. My Motel 6 map had failed me once again.

So I drove to the gates of Graceland and sat outside in the near-dawn and waited for the ticket booth to open. I could only imagine what the graveyard shift workers were thinking as they saw me. A Japanese hipster on some sort of international self-ironic journey to Mecca? A drunk college student passed out from the night before? Hell, in all honesty, I didn't even know what to think of myself.

At the end of the day, it didn't even matter that I was at Graceland. What mattered most was the comfort of being alone. For the first time in a while, I had the luxury of time and freedom to work on myself. And it helped. I won't get into the nuances of it but it was what I needed to do at the time. We should never forget that occasional solitude is occasionally critical.

In this regard, parenting changes things in ways that we can never imagine.

If I've learned anything, it's that the key to parenting is finding the nexus between making the ultimate sacrifice of always being there for your child while also allowing the time to be alone so you can better know yourself and work on your own personal development. Finding that middle ground is a constant challenge and both are necessary in order to not only happily raise a child but also in order to raise a happy child. I can't overemphasize how important both those things are.

Because let's face it. Raising a child requires constant attention and engagement. The stakes are high. It's not their job to realize that we sometimes need to take a break from the realities of everyday life. All of us, at different points in our life, need to take responsibility
for understanding that it's important to take care of ourselves. It's better for us. It's better for our kids.

For some people, I imagine they can have a spa day or a round of golf to refresh and just be quiet. For others, maybe a couple hours is enough to recharge. If some parents can retain ownership of those hours (with no cell phones, no play dates, no running errands,) I applaud them. Whatever you need to do to calm your mind and settle your soul, hey...I get it, man. More power to you.

That's just not how it works for me.

So, in the meantime, I struggle with this selfish belief that life is somewhat of an individual journey yet, at the same time, I realize that being a parent means subsuming those thoughts for the benefit of one's child. As I write all of this down now, I find myself finally starting to understand the difference between Hume's philosophy of the Self and Hegel's philosophy of the Other.

Does that make it any easier? No.

In all honesty, I'd think about it more but personally I'm too drunk to continue.

July 08, 2009

The one time I
remember him even trying was when I was 18 and on my way out of the
house for the evening. As I recall, he briefly looked up from his newspaper and said, "You know about condoms, right?"

End of conversation.

Thank you, Obi Wan Kenobi.

In
all seriousness, it always deeply wounded me that we never had any of those
father-son conversations where he would counsel me about life and give
me lessons of an admonitory or hortative nature that might provide a
road map for how to live my life.

Needless to say, ever since my
daughter was born, I've been bombarding her with advice on a near-daily
basis. It's almost pathological. It's as if I'm trying to imbue her
with all my knowledge before I go gently into that good night.

My
list of lessons that I want to pass down to her is virtually endless
and constantly changing but I thought I'd write some of those lessons
down here. Not only for posterity but also as a daily reminder to
myself that one of the keys to parenting is consistency.

Some of these lessons are humorous. Some are serious.

However, all of them are true...

(1)
When posing for any photos, assume that the only people who will see
them are me, your mother, your boss, and the dean of admissions.

(2) Lennon, not McCartney. Keith, not Mick. Page, not Plant.

(3) Life is too short not to order the fries.

(4)
Never date a man who is rude to waiters, doesn't say "bless you" when
you sneeze, or won't offer you his jacket when you're cold.

(5) Never order drinks that are pink or come with an umbrella in them. Don't be fancy.

(6)
Don't worry about being popular. The "weird" kids are much more fun and
will end up being your most interesting friends. Also, when
it comes to friends, you can't trump quality with quantity. Choose
wisely. Who would you call to drive your white Bronco?

(7) Give charitably, generously, and anonymously.

(8) Crocs are for people who have given up on life.

(9) Never cheat. Not on exams, the crossword puzzle, or your boyfriend.

(10) If you love someone, tell them. Don't hold back.

(11) It may be a small world but it's a huge planet. Grab every opportunity to see as much of it as you possibly can. Most people don't.

(12) Keep your eye on the ball and follow through, both in sports and in life.

(13)
Speaking of sports, pick a team and stick with them. There are few things more important in life than loyalty. It's a dying
trait currently in short supply. Trust me. I'm a Mets fan.

(14) Never regret staying home alone with a good book.

(15)
If you feel the need to reinvent yourself, at least be original. No
tattoos unless you're in the armed forces. No body piercings unless you
become a pre-Columbian tribal Aztec. No orange hair unless you join the
circus.

(16) Learn from
the bad as well as the good. Fall down, make a mess, break something
occasionally. And always remember that the story is never over.

(17) Don't make a scene.

(18) Learn how to entertain yourself. Close the door, crank up the
stereo, and dork out. Invent new dance moves. Play the air guitar. Practice
your touchdown moves. Too many people are self conscious even when
they're alone. Don't be one of those people.

(19) While you're at it, learn how to laugh at yourself.

(20)
When you realize that everyone comes from a dysfunctional family, life
gets a little easier and you feel a little less crazy. The only normal
people are the ones you don't know very well.

(21) Thank you notes are to be written promptly by hand on personal stationery. E-mails, phone calls and text messages don't count.

(22) Remember that nice guys do finish first. If you don't know that, then you don't know where the finish line is.

(23) Learn to cook one thing really well.

(24) Happiness is not fame, money or power. The key to life is finding your sweet spot.

(25) Take every piece of advice anyone ever gives you with a grain of salt.

What
advice do you want to pass on to your kids? What's the one life lesson
that you wished someone had taught you earlier? What's the best piece of advice you ever received from your parents? Am I the only one who never
received any?